Glimpses 4
by pterryfan
Summary: Bobby makes a decision, and it has consequences.


Glimpses 4

Jeez, how long has it been since I posted something? I guess I'd been waiting for the right inspiration, and now I've finally grasped a good idea. I've got an idea for my Greno the Good series as well, but I'm not sure how it will go yet.

Title: Need to Know

Author: Pterryfan

Post Endgame

She was finishing up the paperwork, her fingers flying over the keys, eyes unfocused in a glaze of tedium, when her partner came to sit by her side. She didn't really take notice of him until she realized he was watching her more intently than usual.

"You want to type?"

For some reason that made him laugh. Seeing her head cocked to one side, he explained, "Once I thought Bishop would have been more comfortable scrolling down a document. I said it was sorta the way you like to drive. 'If you wanna scroll, scroll.'"

She went back to the computer screen. "And did she?"

"She in fact declined. I wonder what happened to her . . ."

"I'm sure you'll see her at some cop social one day."

"Maybe, maybe not." His partner's cryptic answer made her give him her full attention. When he saw he had it, he cleared his throat.

"Eames," he began, "I haven't been doing too well since my brother and Dec . . . and you've been so great to me since all of this, I just want you to know I'll always be grateful."

She nodded; they were partners, and she would always be there for him, but he had something on his mind and she didn't want to break his flow.

"Eames," he repeated, "I've been to the hospital"—her heart began to beat faster—"And I've signed some forms." Her heart slowed. He probably was giving her power of attorney or something like that.

"I don't want any heroic measures done. If something happens to me, I just want it to be over."

Her stomach flipped over, her heart did triple-time, she could _feel_ the blood leaving her face.

"I'm getting on in years; I'm so tired. I want to die with my boots on, so to speak." He actually smiled when he said that. Somehow it seemed grotesque.

"You're my partner, my friend, you're the last person I trust. Please, do this one more thing for me. If it's you deciding, please don't go against my wishes."

"I-I-"

"Also, if it comes to my dying, please don't—hang around. Don't stay with me like you did Joe. I don't want you suffering. I'm just an old man whose time will have come. Please, go be with your family and forget about me."

Oh, God, forget about Bobby? After eight years with him, his brilliance, his compassion, his energy? No, no, she couldn't—

"Goren, I need to talk to you about Declan's competency interview."

In a rare moment of contact, he reached out and took her hand. "Thanks for listening. Just think it over, okay?"

He left her sitting in front of the computer, her world falling around her, her fingers ineptly fumbling for the right keys.

Title: Prayer

Author:Pterryfan

Set after "Loyalty"

_Don't hang around. Go be with your family. Forget about me. _

She knew he's said the words. She knew it would kill him to see her suffering like this. But she didn't have it in her to walk away now.

It had been six months since she had quit the force; six months since she had been told he'd been given a job with the FBI. She had been proud, and surprised. Ross must have influenced him more than she realized. He confided in her that it was a way of continuing the Captain's work, making sure he didn't die in vain.

On the way to the hospital, she had been told he had been shot in a drug bust, and that the shooter and the other perps had been killed. There was no one to bring to justice, no revenge to take now. She didn't know her next move. It seemed unimportant, anyway.

A call had been made in route, to the doctors who were trying to save his life, and she told them, with no emotion in her voice, about his last requests. The agents had looked at her like she'd gone crazy.

"Are you sure about this, Detective?" the doctor asked, as if he too questioned her sanity.

"It's on file, I know it's on file there somewhere." She struggled to stop herself from screaming.

"Okay, I'm reading it now. All right; all right. We'll make him as comfortable as possible, and he'll have his own room in ICU when you get here."

"Will he be conscious?"

"No, he hasn't woken since he came in."

God. God. Not again. . .

"And now, here she was, staring at his dear face, tears running down her own. The agents had left, after his boss told her he was one of the best she had ever seen. _Damn right,_ Eames thought.

She would give anything to hear him say her name again, as they worked on a case together, or simply over coffee (or margaritas) together. Or if he'd wake up. Please, wake up . . .

She heard curtains being pulled back, and whirled around. That stupid reflex come back to haunt her. It was a chaplain. "Ma'am would you like me to pray for your friend?"

"No, thank you chaplain." If Bobby's goodness alone was not enough, she didn't know if she wanted a God like that in the room.

"Ma'am, I can show you the hospital chapel if you'd like to pray yourself."

Prayer. She remembered Bobby's brother, Frank, saying, "Prayer works, Bobby."

Wasn't the prayer of a righteous person supposed to make the world better? What, then, was prayer, other than what she had done with Bobby, minds and wills as one, working to cleanse the world of evil? _They_ made the world better. _That_ was prayer.

If that had not pleased God, then no words, from her lips to God's ears, would do any good now.


End file.
